The Non-Bloodline
by Bowdown
Summary: With the land of Albion on the verge of revolution, the princess finds herself accompanied by a second hero, a young man named Adam Kirkman. His past is mysterious and dark, which leaves her allies skeptical on whether they should trust him. But the soon to be queen finds herself addicted to the presence of this hero. (Fable 3 and The Balvarine Order)


**Okay. So I got Fable two just yesterday after playing Fable Three for a few days in a row. And holy shit. I don't think I've ever been so disappointed by a game like I have with Fable three before. Except maybe Devil May Cry 2, but I think everyone will agree with me on that. No matter. I was extremely surprised to discover how much more fun I was having with Fable 2 than I was with Fable 3. So I am now inspired like crazy to write a Fable story of my own. This story is a crossover with Fable 3 and the book, Fable: The Balvarine Order. (Which I highly recommend you check out.)  
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**A/N: No matter how much fun either game in the Fable series was to play I was always so disappointed with the combat. I mean seriously WHY DO RPG GAMES NEED TO SUCK SO MUCH WITH COMBAT? It's so boring compared to the other games I've played. Like why can't they add fighting mechanics like the ones in Devil May Cry 3 and 4? Maybe some day I'll write the story for Fable 4 and Lionhead with shit their pants in amazement. (I'm just kidding, Lionhead. Don't get mad at me.) For now I will add the insane, over the top combat from DMC into this fanfiction story. And I hope you enjoy it along the way.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Fable. Those belong to Lionhead.**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1<br>**

_"You should have known the price of evil, and it hurts to know_

_that you belong here, yeah. No one to call._

_Everybody to fear. Your tragic fate is looking so clear, yeah._

_Oooh. It's your fucking nightmare." -Nightmare. Avenged Sevenfold_

It all started with a message.

As long ago as it was, the massage would have fit for any time period, however, it was sent to only one boy in particular. This boy was already so deep into sleep, tucked safely into his warm bed, though little did he know that the message was an omen for his life changing forever.

He was awakened in the middle of the night by a loud knock at the door. He immediately lifted his head, a bit startled by it as his father, as bulky and strong as a blacksmith usually was, simply answered the door without fear. However, that mistake couldn't have been more grave. As soon as the boy heard the door squeak open, his ears rang as an explosion sounded louder than thunder.

The sound made him yelp, and fall out of his bed onto the hard wood floor. His elbows pulsated with pain as did his lip as he hit it on his fist. Once his hearing came back to him all he could hear was the screams of a woman, and to him there was no question that the woman was his mother. Then another gunshot erupted from down stairs and the boy dared not look down into their family room. He knew what had happened and all he could do was cover his ears and press his back against the wall.

Before he knew it, the second floor door to his bedroom opened wide and all he could see in the doorway was the figure of a cloaked man, a head so thin and bald that he nearly looked like a skeleton. This caused the boy's heart to skip a beat as he buried his face in his knees out of fear.

He could hear the man's big metal boots clunking along the floor as he made his way toward him. He covered his ears and shut his eyelids tightly so that it would seem like the man wasn't there.

But he was.

The boy's entire body shivered as the man's bony hand came over his shoulder. He shivered and daringly looked up at the man, his face even more skeletal and scary as he expected him to be.

"Stand up, boy." The man spoke in a voice that sounded deeper than the dual gunshots that had erupted in his house.

"Oi, hands up." Spoke a gruff voice from behind the mummified man, followed by the click of his pistol's hammer. "We're here to take this house."

The boy looked past the skeleton man at the robber who wore an all black military outfit, with the right sleeve cut off. Suddenly a thud sounded on the floor as the skeleton man stood up and looked over his shoulder, the moonlight illuminating off the sparse chainmail he had on and the royal blue cloak that covered his entire body. The boy flinched as the shine of the moon reflected off a huge blade into his eyes. He covered his face and stared up at the giant scythe that the man held in his hand.

As he stared back at the bandit, holding him at gunpoint, all the other man could do was shiver and attempt to hold his weapon straight. The skeleton man turned completely around at that and slammed the butt of the weapon on the floor, asserting his dominance over the bandit.

"You are not the first man who has tried to kill me." The man boomed at him then in a flash he stuck his scythe forward, sticking the tip of the blade just behind the trigger. Which made firing the weapon impossible. The bandit attempted to jerk his weapon free, but to no avail and all he could do was stare into the cold, dead eyes of the skeleton man, feeling all of his bravery being sucked from him. "But I assure you. I'm the last one that you'll try to kill."

The bandit merely shook his head and dropped his pistol, attempting to turn around and sprint out the door, but he ended up running straight into the blade of the scythe that the owner had swung before neither the bandit nor the boy had time to even blink. Next thing that the boy saw was the man's head detaching from his body and hitting the floor in a puddle of scarlet liquid that dripped between the wood panels on the floor.

The boy breathed heavily until the skeleton man placed another hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze on his shoulder, causing him to nearly stop breathing altogether. He looked up at the suffocating presence of the blue robed man, his white, dead eyes feeling as if they were traveling into the boy's very soul. He could feel himself paralyzed by the man, and by what he had heard. All he wanted to do was run as fast as he could downstairs and check on his parents, but he couldn't help but feel like the skeleton man was here to get him.

However, that did not seem to be the case.

"Cry while you can, boy." The man boomed at him in a commanding voice, through his lipless face. "Because this is the last chance you will ever have to do so."

The boy felt his throat grow sore and his eyes grow hot. The feeling a person gets when they were about to cry, but that was as far as he went. The boy was stuck with the sore feeling in the back of his throat and the heavy feeling in his chest, but no tears came. He simply couldn't cry.

The boy clenched his teeth in frustration and looked away, shutting his eyes tightly with anger now building. "I can't."

"I see." The man bobbed his head in understanding. "Then you certainly are a tragic one, aren't you?" The boy looked up as the skeleton man patted him on the shoulder. "You certainly won't be a pure one when you grow up."

"Are you saying I'm evil?" The boy whimpered, his fear building inside him as he stared at the man's old, worn flesh that hugged his skull like latex.

"That's for you to decide boy, I'm merely here to push you in the right direction." He nodded. "What is your name?"

"Adam." The boy replied, his fear slowly dropping. As scary as the man looked, the boy felt a strange comfort in him and he wasn't as scared as he previously was. "Lapresse."

"You are not afraid anymore?" The man replied, noting Adam's change in attitude.

The boy looked off at the drop off to the first floor where surely more dead bodies lied. It was a deathly silence and it was already too late to try optimism and think his parents were still alive. He knew what the situation was and now he knew that he would never see them again.

"It was them, huh?" He hung his head. "Mom and dad."

The skeleton man bobbed his head and patted the boy's shoulder once again. "I'm sorry, boy. Sometimes destiny can be a cruel monster."

The man rose from his position in front of Adam and reached into his royal blue robe. The boy gasped as the man pulled out a huge sword with a black stained blade. The cross guard took the form of a human skull in the center with a pair of bird wings protruding from both sides of its head. The end of the hilt looked something like a crab claw or a pair of horns without a head.

Adam immediately grew fearful once again as the man held the giant sword with one hand. "You're with them?"

The man's deathly white eyes looked back to Adam, lowering the weapon as he shook his head. "It's a sad, sad time when children no longer cry over the death of a loved one." He shook his head with a disappointed stare. "Do you know why they had to die?"

Adam bobbed his head, all too familiar of what was going to happen with his life. "Yes. Daddy told me. He said that one day someone would come for him and during that time I would be on my own."

The man bobbed his head once more then went to the wall above Adam's head causing him to look up as he pulled a board from the wall and placed the sword inside, before mending the wall back to normal. "Then you should know your next choice then." He turned his back and stood in the doorway, about to leave. "You can either live your life on the streets and avoid the sure death of doing otherwise. Or you can turn yourself into a machine of battle." He looked over his shoulder, his white eyes piercing the boy's courage. "Become a hero on your own and you will triumph over every hero before you who had to be taught."

"How do I do that?" Adam rose to his feet with confusion. "That's impossible."

"You'll have to fix that way of thinking." He shook his head. "Leave this place. Spend your time fighting with the sword and firearms, become the greatest fighter in the land. Then one day when you've reached the sufficient age return to this place and travel through the academy. There lies a dead end inside its depths, a place where normal people will go and turn around without thought, but you will be different. That place will make you stronger, much stronger. After that you will be worthy of that weapon."

Adam rushed forward as the man continued to walk. "That's it?"

"I am not here to hold your hand." He boomed back, causing Adam to fall onto his rear. "You are not of the bloodline, so you will need more effort. You must learn to make do with any situation. Be creative."

"At least tell me your name!" Adam shouted down the steps, causing the man to stop and look over his shoulder, menacingly.

"The name is Scythe." He replied, immediately turning around and taking a single stride to the bottom of the stairs before literally becoming a shadow, then vanishing into the night.

Adam was taken off guard at first, looking around the deathly empty streets of Brightwall as he reached the bottom of the steps. He looked up at the statue of the horseman in the center of town square, before his attention snapped to he wide open door of his house. He rushed forward and stood in the doorway, dropping to is knee as soon as he saw his aged father lying on his back, a pistol lying on the ground beside his limp hand.

It was true, what Scythe said, what his father said. This was the day Adam was going to be left on his own. A brief glimmer of excitement sparked inside of Adam's chest as he picked up his father's pistol. The stories that his father told him were always exciting. The tales of him adventuring, back when he was still a privileged man. He like the stories of his father and his faithful servant, James becoming heroes the most.

Adam gripped the pistol tightly and nodded certainly to himself. If his father could become a hero, then so could he.

The sound of boots sounded from behind him as three guard rushed to the raided house and examined the situation. They were quite hasty and stomped the ground in frustration when they noticed the vacant crime scene. All they found was Adam, kneeling next to his father with a pistol held in his hand.

"Who is responsible for this, boy?!" One of them grabbed him on the shoulder and Adam looked back at the other two guards.

Instantly, an idea came into his head. Scythe said that he would need to make do with any situation. As crazy as it sounded to him, at least he would be taken care of while he trained for a few years.

Adam grabbed the barrel of the pistol and handed to the guard over his shoulder. He stood up, putting on the most blank expression he could before sneering at the guard. "I am." He replied, causing all three of them to blink with shock. Adam nodded to the guard and lifted his wrists in surrender. "I killed my parents."

"You?!" The guard replied, looking back at the guards in a terrified shock. Each of them shrugged and shook their heads. "Very well, boy." He nodded and chained the boy's wrists up. After that he grabbed the back of his shirt and began walking him away. "You're under a rest for the murder of both of your parents."

"Oh, good lord." One of the other guards whispered sickeningly to the other. "How could a child do such a thing?"

Adam shook his head, not liking taking the rap for his parents murder. However, he was most confident that this would be a good thing, spending time in prison, with trained criminals who knew their way around the world. Plenty of blood thirsty men to fight him.

This was the start of Adam's destiny, and he knew it.

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><p><strong>So as I said before, this story is sort of a crossover between fable 3 and the Balvarine Order. As you probably picked up on, Adam is the son of Thomas, the privileged one from Fable: The Balvarine order. And the hero from Fable 3 will be very present in this story and it will be the female character, so you know what's up.<br>**

**If you read my A/N up at the top and you agreed with some of the stuff I said, I wanna know about it. Tell me you experiences in Fable 3 or any game, because I want to know. **

**Until next time.**

**-Merci Boucoup. **


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